


Dark Angel

by RootsArrow (SparklingDarkAngel)



Category: The Blacklist
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDarkAngel/pseuds/RootsArrow
Summary: Prison psychologist Elizabeth Scott has her life turned upside down the day a mysterious cabal comes for her. Her rescuer is none other than the elusive Concierge of Crime, Raymond Reddington. Now Liz must fight for her life while unraveling her past and exploring her feelings for her unconventional savior.





	1. The First Strike

Most days were hard. Elizabeth Scott knew they were going to be before starting the job, but she didn’t think anything else would satisfy her need to understand the criminal mind. And it was very satisfying, even if her work had completely killed off what little social life she had left. Her dad Sam had always told her that her biological father had been a career criminal who’s name was unknown, and Liz understood that was where her obsession came from. She truly loved her life with Sam, but she yearned to get to know her roots. 

Across her office sat Mark Broad with the same dark, hopeless eyes she had seen many times before. Dark, matted hair hung in his face as he looked everywhere but at Liz. It broke her heart and intrigued her at the same time. Mark had been arrested a week ago for aggravated assault, and Liz had seen the video. His eyes burned bright with rage as his fists and spit flew, but to see him now was like seeing a completely different person. 

“Mr. Angelo tells me you haven’t eaten anything in two days,” Liz gently prodded. “Do you want to tell me why?”

The prisoner in question shrugged as he wrung his hands together, a common nervous habit. There was someone like him every day, and every day Liz would watch them and wonder if her father had ever felt the same guilt over what he’d done; who he’d become. “This is your first offense, correct Mark?” Liz asked, pushing the subject towards something easier. 

Mark nodded his head and met her eyes. “Yes, Dr. Scott,” he mumbled. 

“Please, call me Elizabeth,” Liz replied with a kind smile. “I know adjusting to prison can be hard, but not eating is only going to make it harder.”

Those sad, amber eyes moved down towards the floor again. “I’m not hungry,” Mark admitted. 

“Why do you think that is?” Liz prompted. When she received no response, she changed tactics. “Let’s talk about Alex.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about Alex,” he said softly. 

She had seen this many times before. It had been a heat of the moment act, and now the regret was bearing down on him full force. “You didn’t mean to hurt him, did you?” Liz pushed. 

“I never wanted to hurt him,” Mark replied. “I... I don’t know what happened to me. I was so angry, and it just... happened.”

Liz smiled to herself, glad that Mark seemed willing to work with her. “That’s why I’m here,” she told him. “Everyone has impulses. Some people just have a harder time controlling them than others. But everyone can get stronger, and together, we’re gonna make that happen for you.”

As Mark gazed up at her hopefully, a warmth pooled in her stomach. Rehabilitation was the satisfaction of the job. She wasn’t just there to understand them; she was there to help them. At some point, Liz had developed a certain empathy for the criminals like Mark who (according to his file) had a cruel life and acted out simply because of how they developed. None of them ever thought they could be someone better, but Liz knew better. Anyone open to growth could be better. She was just there to help them see that. 

XXX

Working in a prison, Liz had developed pretty sharp senses, so when the black sedan started following her as she walked home she noticed instantly. And being surrounded by prisoners every day had made her very bold, so she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared the driver down; a white man wearing a gray suit and fedora. His light eyes, however, didn’t hold the look she would expect from an attacker. Instead, he looked mesmerized. 

As he rolled the window down, Liz walked right up to him to assert her fearlessness. The man gave a small smile as if in awe by her. “Elizabeth Scott,” he said softly. “You are in great danger.”

Liz was not easily unnerved, but the way this stranger said her name in a way that felt almost intimate did the trick. Her whole body stiffened as she glared at him. “How do you know my name?” she demanded. 

“There’s a large cabal coming after you,” he explained as if he hadn’t heard her. “They’re going to frame you for their crimes.”

“Why?” she asked. She didn’t believe it for a second, but she decided to play along. 

The stranger hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because of your mother.”

For the second time that day, Liz felt completely unnerved. A chill ran down her spine. “Who the hell are you?” she asked sharply, hoping this time he would answer her. 

“Raymond Reddington.”

Liz thought her heart would stop as the name echoed through her ears. She recognized it instantly. He was a criminal and traitor on the FBI’s most wanted list. Her eyes widened as she quickly backed up. She could think of many reasons the infamous Raymond Reddington would want to kidnap a prison psychologist, and none of them were good. “Lizzie, I’m not here to hurt you,” he tried to reassure her, but she took off running down the crowded street, hoping to lose him in the sea of people. 

As she turned down her street, an eerie quiet fell over the city. The whole street was empty except for a couple of FBI cars parked in front of her house. Liz let out a shaky breath and ran towards them, assuming they were there to protect her from Reddington. A light-haired man stepped out as she approached. He flashed his badge: Special Agent Donald Ressler. “Elizabeth Scott?” he inquired. 

“Yes, that’s me,” Liz responded, out of breath. 

Suddenly, there was a gun aimed at her belonging to a dark-skinned woman on the other side of the car, presumably Ressler’s partner. “Special Agent Meera Malik,” she introduced herself coldly. “You are under arrest for multiple accounts of terrorism, first degree murder, and capital murder.”

Liz’s jaw dropped open as she backed up. Ressler drew his gun on her, and she froze. Malik approached her and began reading out Liz’s rights while cuffing her hands behind her back. “This is crazy!” Liz protested, her voice rising a pitch in fear. A few hot tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m a prison psychologist! I haven’t hurt anyone!”

As she was pushed into the back of a car, she frantically turned to Ressler. “We know who you are, Masha Rostova,” he said before the door was slammed shut. 

“Who’s Masha Rostova?” she asked frantically, turning towards the driver. He didn’t answer, simply following in line with the other FBI cars. Liz leaned back in her seat feeling hopeless. The tale Reddington had been telling seemed so far out there that she hadn’t even considered the possibility that it might be true. Now she just wished she had listened. 

Next thing she knew, her body was being tossed to the side. Somewhere in her panicked mind she was aware that a red pick-up had plowed into the passenger’s side. She didn’t see the driver, but she knew who was behind it. With her cuffed hands, she fumbled at the door, clicking the lock and pushing the door open. 

Liz stumbled out and was surprised to see a handful of men fending off the agents. She spotted the black sedan from earlier and made a dash for it. The passenger’s door was thrown open by the man in the fedora: Raymond Reddington. She jumped in quickly, and he pulled the door behind her before speeding off. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Liz asked, her voice cracking. 

Raymond glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes gently in concern. “You’re hurt,” he observed. 

Liz was about to protest before becoming aware of the throbbing in her left temple. “I’m alive,” she replied. “I suppose that’s thanks to you. Why are you helping me though?” When Raymond didn’t answer, she pressed. “You said those people were after me because of my mother. Did you know her?”

“Yes,” Raymond answered. 

His men had held the FBI off for long enough to get away, but Liz had no doubt they would soon be looking for Raymond’s car. He pulled off the road at the underpass and stopped right behind an ambulance. “Come on,” Raymond instructed, leaning over to open her door for her. She quickly scrambled out and ran to the ambulance with Raymond right behind her. He opened the back door, but with her hands still cuffed Liz couldn’t climb in by herself. But before she even had to ask, Raymond’s hands were at her waist, lifting her inside. He climbed in after her, closed the door behind them, and pushed past the stretcher as he crossed the cab. After three harsh knocks against the wall, the engine roared to life, and their unknown driver took off. 

Caught off balance, Liz fell into the stretcher with a grunt. “Lizzie,” Raymond gasped as he hurried behind her. He gently grabbed her wrists and began to pick at the lock with a paper clip. The metal cuffs fell with a satisfying clank. Liz brought her hands to her chest and rubbed at her sore wrists. 

Raymond moved to sit on the stretcher next to her. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

Liz was about to reply affirmative before the reality of her situation sunk in. She had been arrested outside her own home by the FBI and rescued by an infamous criminal mastermind whom she had never met before, all because of a past that she couldn’t even remember. A strangled sob broke from her lips as she tried to reign in her shock. “I’m Masha Rostova, aren’t I?” she asked through the tears forming in her eyes. 

A nod of his head confirmed her fear. Liz squeezed her eyes shut almost as if she could wish the whole situation away. “What do they want from me?” 

“A blackmail file called the Fulcrum,” Raymond answered. “Your biological father supposedly left it in your possession before he died. Until now, the cabal believed I had it which has kept us both safe. It seems they finally decided to call my bluff.”

By that point, Liz’s head was spinning. She shook her head hopelessly as a steady stream of sobs forced their way out of her body. Raymond wrapped his strong arms around her, and without really knowing why she fell into the stranger. Her hands fisted his waistcoat as she buried her head into his chest. Gentle lips pressed themselves into her hair, and she was far too exhausted to question it.


	2. Us Against The World

The ambulance had been abandoned in a hospital parking garage. Liz now sat in the back of an old pick-up driven by a dark-skinned man with gentle eyes who introduced himself as Dembe. It was obvious that he and Raymond were close by the way they hugged as greeting. Her tears had since run dry, but she was sure she still looked like a mess. Dembe had put a hand on her shoulder and assured her everything would be alright. She so wished she could believe him. 

“How did you know they were coming for me?” Liz asked, desperately needing to fill the silence. It was true that she had always longed to know her roots, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that her past would come for her so viciously. 

Raymond turned his head to look at her. “The cabal and I have been long time enemies,” he explained. “But because they thought I had the fulcrum, we had an unsteady truce. I had a contact in their ranks, Alan Fitch, who tipped me off to what they were planning. The cabal killed him.”

Liz nodded solemnly. The whole world around her felt numb while there was an explosion going on inside her. “I’ve gotta get out of the country,” she murmured. 

“No,” Raymond replied firmly

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Liz snapped. “I’m not safe here.”

Raymond’s face fell, and with it her heart fell into her stomach. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be safe anywhere,” he said sadly. “The cabal is everywhere, and they won’t stop coming for you.”

“Because they think I have the Fulcrum,” Liz replied miserably. “God, there’s no way out, is there?”

“There is,” Raymond answered softly. “We find the Fulcrum. We expose the cabal. We fight back.”

Despite herself, the corner of Liz’s mouth twitched upwards. “Us against the world, huh?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation. “How do we even find the Fulcrum?”

“Your father,” he answered. 

Liz shook her head. “I don’t know anything about him, especially where he would have hidden a life-endangering blackmail file.”

“Not him,” Raymond replied. “Your real father.”

“Sam,” Liz realized as her mouth formed an O. “What does he have to do with any of this? Besides, he died about a year ago.”

Raymond nodded and sighed sadly. “There’s a storage unit in Baltimore under his name,” he explained. “Some of your childhood belongings are kept there.”

“And you think the Fulcrum might be hidden among them,” Liz finished. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How exactly do you know about that?” When Raymond didn’t answer, Liz began to hypothesize. “You knew him too, didn’t you?”

“Sam was a dear friend of mine,” Raymond answered. 

He knew everything that she couldn’t remember about her past, she realized. This man whom she didn’t know until today was deeply engrained in her history. It was as comforting as it was troubling, because while it felt great to finally have a link to her past, she was starting to get a sense of just how dark it was. 

All Liz remembered was fire and smoke and her father’s arms around her, pulling her out of the inferno. She had no idea what became of her parents after that, but she had always assumed that they hadn’t made it out of the fire. Now, after everything she’d learned that day, she understood there were darker forces at play. 

“Why don’t you just tell me the whole story, Raymond?” she asked gently. “I know you know it.”

His eyes clouded over as he turned away from her to look out the window. “I’m a sin eater,” he simply stated. “I absorb the misdeeds of others, darkening my own soul to keep theirs pure.”

In the mirror, Liz saw the flash of pain shoot through Dembe’s eyes. “I understand,” Liz replied. She wasn’t going to get any more straight answers from him, but he was forgetting that she was a prison psychologist, and she was damn good at her job. She knew how to read a criminal like a map, and while Raymond may be extraordinary, he was not going to be an exception.

She suddenly found her resolve to fight the cabal. If she was going to have the time and get under his skin and into his head, she needed to stay alive. 

XXX

As far as places to hide went, the abandoned farmhouse Dembe had driven them to in the countryside seemed like a great one. Liz didn’t know exactly where they were, but Raymond assured her they’d be in Baltimore tomorrow morning. 

Luckily, Raymond had been prepared and stashed a duffel bag full of clothes in the pick-up. The t-shirt and sweatpants Liz now donned were baggy on her, but she wasn’t about to complain. After Raymond had gotten the water running, Liz took a hot shower and changed as if cleaning herself could wash the day’s events off of her. It couldn’t, but she did feel much better afterwords. 

She didn’t know where Dembe had snuck off to, but Raymond had collapsed on a mattress in the back. He hadn’t bothered changing, instead just stripping down to his shirt and suit pants. Unable to sleep, Liz sat vigil on an old couch with broken springs and strips of fabric hanging off. She watched her mysterious rescuer sleep from her vantage point, observing the twitch of his eyes as dreams held him. 

It wasn’t long before the slight twitch became a strain, wrinkling his entire face. He shifted uneasily, and a soft grunt passed his lips. Without really knowing why, Liz moved to sit next to him. She placed her hand gently on his arm and felt him relax beneath her. A lot of criminals were touch starved, and it wouldn’t surprise her if a man as feared as Raymond was fell under that category. Slowly, she ran her hand up and down his arm, unsure if she was giving or seeking comfort. 

It didn’t take long for the blackness of sleep to take her after that.


	3. Morning Panic

It was the same thing each morning. Fire. Blood. Fear. Raymond opened his eyes and sucked in a large breath. As he took in his surroundings, he remembered where he was. His girls were still gone. The day the cabal had taken them away, Raymond felt like he had been dropped into the ocean with no land in sight, struggling to keep himself above the surface. Twenty years later and he still felt like he was drowning. 

Only two things had kept him alive since that day. The first was a deep ache to destroy the organization that had destroyed his life. The second was Katerina’s little girl. Over his short time working with Katerina, he had grown to care for her deeply. He still blamed himself for not being able to save her. 

But he had been able to save her daughter, and it wasn’t the poor child’s fault that she was born into such darkness. She hadn’t chosen her parents, and it was only because of her father that she was in this mess in the first place. Raymond still held a deep contempt for that man. 

As Raymond pulled himself into a sitting position, his eyes fell upon the form of Elizabeth Scott collapsed on the other side of the mattress. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared down at her, wondering how she had gotten there. 

She was a far cry from the little girl he had pulled out of the flames so many years ago. Raymond had never taken the chance to really look at her before, but she was rather pretty. In sleep, she looked peaceful. For a second, he could pretend that the cabal remained unaware of her existence. But he knew the nightmare that awaited her upon opening her eyes. 

He blamed himself for that too. 

The hunger in his stomach eventually pushed him towards the kitchen. Only non-perishable food items were kept at the safe house, so he pulled out a pot and began to boil water over the stove to make oatmeal. He made three servings, knowing Dembe and Lizzie would eventually want something to eat. After scooping some into a bowl for himself and stirring in some brown sugar, he sat at the small table and began to eat. 

Raymond spent most mornings alone, so sitting alone in the quiet kitchen was nothing new to him. But this morning had been different in that he hadn’t woken up alone. Katerina’s daughter, the woman whom Raymond had devoted his life to protecting, had been by his side. It startled and comforted him having her so close, and in his heart, he felt the familiar twinge of affection. 

It wasn’t long before he could hear Lizzie’s footsteps approaching. She appeared in the doorway, hair tussled and eyes glazed over. “G’morning,” she greeted him in a low rumble. 

“I prepared oatmeal,” Raymond replied, gesturing to the pot on the stove. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make anything better, but it’s very hard to store anything here.”

Lizzie gave him a small smile before approaching the pot. “I’m sure it’s much better than the food in prison,” she quipped. She served herself and sat down across from him at the table. “I feel like I’m still dreaming,” she admitted. “All of this is so crazy. It doesn’t feel real.”

Though she was smiling, her eyes gazed sadly down at her oatmeal. “I wish it was a dream, my dear,” he said. 

Footsteps thundered out side the kitchen, and Red looked up in worry. Dembe entered, holding his phone. “Raymond, I have a problem,” he announced. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Dembe approached and held the phone out to Red. On the screen he could see a picture of Dembe’s granddaughter being held by cabal operative Mathias Solomon. Cold dread settled in his stomach as he met his friend’s eyes. “Go,” he instructed. “I’ll arrange for another method of transportation.”

His friend nodded and rushed out of the kitchen. Within a few minutes, he could hear the pick up start and drive away. The whole time Lizzie stared at him in horror. “What’s going on?” she eventually asked. 

For a moment Raymond considered not answering, but Lizzie deserved to know the danger they were up against. “Dembe’s granddaughter has been taken,” he said. 

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Taken?” she gasped. 

“I’m afraid so,” Raymond responded, reaching across the table to take one of Lizzie’s hands. She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to block the world out. In his heart he ached for her. There was a time when he had been in her position, thrust from a steady life into a violent and unstable world. It was like waking up to a nightmare. 

Suddenly, Lizzie pulled her hand away and stood. “I can’t do this,” she muttered. She rubbed her face and grabbed at her hair, on the verge of losing control. “I can’t.”

“You can, Lizzie,” Raymond assured her. 

But she was beyond consolation. Eyes widening, she bent over and clutched at her heart. “Oh my god!” she gasped. “Wha- what’s happening to me? I’m dying!”

Raymond was out of his seat and at her side within milliseconds. “Slow down,” he instructed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My chest. I can’t- I can’t breathe,” she sputtered. “Did- did you poison me?” 

Realization dawned on him. “Lizzie, you’re having a panic attack,” he said softly. “I’m going to put my hands on your shoulders. Is that okay?”

Lizzie gave a jerky nod, and Raymond gently held her shoulders. “I need you to slow down your breathing. Try to match mine. Can you do that?” She gave another jerky nod and brought herself to meet his concerned eyes. Her whole body trembled as she tried to steady herself. 

After what felt like forever, Lizzie started to breathe normally. She fell against Raymond, and he held her. He could feel her heart pounding throughout her body, but at least it wasn’t palpitating. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured into his chest. 

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Raymond reassured her gently. “Not to me.”

She pulled back, shame painting her features. “I’m a psychologist,” she replied. “I should know a panic attack when I see one. Or, you know, feel one.”

“Any lesser person would have crumbled under the weight on your shoulders,” Raymond says. “You’re doing amazing, Elizabeth, and you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”

Lizzie nodded. “So, how do we get to Baltimore now?” she asked. 

Raymond gave a sly smile. I think it’s time I call my friend in Mossad,” he answered. 

“How did you get a friend in Mossad?” Lizzie asked, brows furrowed. 

“She tracked me down once,” he replied. “I could have easily escaped, but instead I decided to bargain for my freedom by leading her to the organization that killed her brother.” Lizzie nodded, and he could tell by her eyes that she was far too tired to question it. He retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket and rang for her. 

“Agent Navabi!” he greeted. “It’s been far too long.”

XXX

Liz hung back as the black sedan rolled up to the farmhouse. The agent who stepped out was fairly beautiful and had a relaxed posture as she greeted Raymond. Her first instinct was to be suspicious of any agent who called the Concierge of Crime “friend”, but she knew she was being unfair to Raymond who was doing so much for her. With a deep breath, Liz steeled herself and approached the agent. 

Dark brown eyes met hers with curiosity. “You must be Dr. Scott,” she said. Her voice had a low, musical quality to it. “Special Agent Navabi, but you can call me Samar.” She extended her hand to the psychologist who shook it shyly. 

“Why are you helping me?” Liz asked. 

“Because you’re not a Russian terrorist,” Samar responded simply. “I know Reddington well enough to know that he wouldn’t be helping you if you were. He’s not exactly Russia’s biggest fan.”

Raymond’s eye twitched slightly as Liz eyed him in confusion. From what she understood, she was Russian. He made it sound as if her parents had been big enemies of the U.S. government. 

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Liz replied. 

Samar looked her over sympathetically. “Just paying it forward,” she said. “Come on, let me take you to Baltimore.”

Liz nodded and followed the agent. Raymond held the passenger’s door open for her to climb in before he situated himself in the back. She watched shyly as Samar started the car and drove off. The agent glanced her way and tried to smile reassuringly. “I can only imagine what you’re going through,” she said softly. “Political wars are an absolute hell.”

Given the tone in her voice, Liz suspected she spoke from personal experience. Judging from Reddington’s brief explanation and Samar’s own words, her brother had been murdered by an extremist group. That meant wherever Samar was from, she was used to war. To Liz, this was new. 

“You’re never going to be able to get into that storage unit,” Samar addressed Raymond. Liz swore she could hear him sigh in response. “You’ll be lucky if the FBI hasn’t already cleaned the place out.”

“I can be very convincing,” Raymond assured her, to which Liz had no doubt. 

She rolled her eyes slightly. “Your overconfidence will get you both caught,” Samar informed him. “Any cover story you come up with a day after Sam Scott’s daughter is accused of terrorism is going to sound suspicious, especially with her by your side.” Liz frowned, knowing Samar was right. She would be recognized instantly. “Which is why you two won’t be getting into that storage unit. Mossad will.”


	4. Baltimore

Liz shivered as the cold water ran through her hair along with Samar’s fingers. “Almost done,” the Mossad agent said softly as she continued to squeeze the remains of the bleach out of Liz’s now blonde hair. She had booked a hotel room for Liz and Raymond to hide out while they searched the content’s of Sam’s storage. 

Samar shut the water off and wrapped Liz’s hair up in a towel. “How are you holding up?” she asked. 

“Not well,” Liz admitted. She pressed the towel against her hair before wrapping it around her shoulders. “This time yesterday, I was at work thinking it was just going to be another regular day. I didn’t even know I was Russian.”

She stood from her stool and turned to face the mirror. Her wet, blonde hair hung to her shoulders. In the reflection, she could see Samar arch an eyebrow. “So you are Russian?” she asked. 

“I assume so,” Liz answered, frowning at the mirror. She didn’t feel like herself anymore. “I mean, I was born a Rostova, and supposedly my birth parents were enemies of the US.”

Samar stretched her hand out, and Liz took it and allowed herself to be led back out into the main room. Raymond was there, staring out the window. As he heard them approach, he turned and his mouth fell open. Liz blushed and looked down as he reigned himself in. “You look good,” he said. 

“I give her a fake badge and they won’t recognize her,” Samar commented. “We should have no problem getting in and out.”

“If she’s your partner, then what am I? Your boss?” Raymond asked with a smirk. 

“You’re not coming,” Samar informed him. 

Raymond’s eyes widened in alarm. “I have to come,” he insisted. “What if something happens?”

Samar sighed and crossed the room. On the dresser sat a pile of Samar’s clothes. She picked it up and walked back to Liz. “Then I will handle it, because I am Mossad,” she answered. Turning to Liz, she held out the clothes. “You’ll need to look the part. Wear these.”

Liz took them and glanced at Raymond. “Be safe,” he instructed her, his eyes bearing intensely into hers. She nodded and turned back towards the bathroom. As she left, she could hear Raymond talking. “If anything happens to her-“

“-It won’t,” Samar cut him off. 

As Liz closed the bathroom door behind her, she wondered what made her so special. 

XXX

The whole ride there, Liz’s heart was pounding. Samar talked to her calmly, telling her how to control her breathing and stand like a cop. Essentially, Liz just needed to get into her work persona. If she could make herself believe that it was just an ordinary day as Dr. Scott, she could pull this off. 

Samar approached the owner, a graying man looking to be in his 70s, and flashed her badge, and Liz copied the movement with her own fake badge, praying he wouldn’t look to close. “Agents Navabi and Cohen,” Samar introduced them. “We’re with Mossad. We’re going to need access to Samual Scott’s storage unit.”

From behind his desk, the owner nodded. He grabbed a pair of bolt-cutters and began to lead them down the hall, past the storage doors. “This is about the Russian lady, isn’t it?” he asked. “I knew it was only a matter of time before the government came knocking at my door. I wasn’t expecting Mossad though.”

“We have reason to believe that Dr. Scott is involved in multiple terror attacks in the Middle East,” Samar explained. 

The man stopped in front of presumably Liz’s father’s door. He lifted the bolt-cutters to the lock, but his hands shook. Liz approached him and gently grabbed them. “Let me,” she said softly. The man gratefully smiled and let her take them. Once she snapped the lock off, Samar lifted the door open, leaving the three of them standing outside a dusty, mostly empty room. A few boxes were stacked in the corner. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “May I ask when Mr. Scott’s last visit here was?” Liz questioned. 

“It’s been many years,” he answered. “Too many for this old man to keep count of. Anyway, I’ll let you agents be. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Once they were alone, Samar shot Liz a smile. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about. You’re a natural,” she said. 

“Well my father was a grifter,” Liz replied, smiling back. “I managed to pick a few things up.” She walked to the corner and ran her hand along the top of the dusty boxes. It was obvious they hadn’t been touched in years. Her heart quickened as she wondered what childhood possessions of hers could possibly be in there. She couldn’t remember anything from before the night of the fire, and even that night was hard to remember. As a psychologist, she knew all about repressed memories and trauma, and that terrified her. It was possible the boxes held more than physical objects. They could be holding her memories. 

Liz picked up three boxes and began the walk back down the hall again. Samar followed her, likewise carrying three boxes. She had left the trunk of the sedan open, so Liz set the boxes down inside. After a few trips, the two managed to clear the storage unit and load its contents into the trunk. Samar thanked the owner once again, and the two women climbed back into the car and drove off. 

“Are you alright?” Samar asked after a couple minutes of silence. 

“Yeah,” Liz softly replied. 

“Are you afraid you won’t remember anything?”

Liz shook her head. “I’m afraid I will.”

XXX

The remains of Liz’s childhood lay strewn about the hotel floor. Samar had left Liz and Raymond, claiming she needed to get back to Mossad. There were many things she did not recognize, such as the burnt dolls, children’s books, or tiny clothes, but there was one thing Liz couldn’t stop staring at. In her hands was a stuffed rabbit, blackened from the night of the fire. 

Suddenly, she wasn’t in the hotel anymore. She was hiding in a closet with the smell of smoke filling her nose. Her little hands clung tightly to the bunny as she trembled in fear. The next things she knew, her dad was lifting her out, taking her away from the fire. Flames were everywhere. She wanted to scream. 

“Lizzie, what’s wrong?” Raymond asked, bringing her back to reality. 

It was then that Liz noticed a single tear trailing down her cheek. She wiped it away and held up the rabbit. “I was holding this the night of the fire,” she explained. “My dad gave it to me.” Her eyes widened in realization. “My dad gave it to me,” she repeated. 

She turned the toy over in her hands, scanning it. Her eyes landed on an uneven stitch line in its neck. Gently, she pulled at the threads until they came undone, allowing her to push her fingers into the stuffing until they felt something hard. She pulled it out and examined it with fearful intensity. It looked a bit like a USB drive, but they were missing the port. 

Liz met Raymond’s wide eyes. “The Fulcrum,” he murmured. 

“But how do we use it?” Liz asked, turning it over in her hands. 

“I don’t know, but I may know someone who will,” he replied. “Until then, we need to keep that hidden.”

Raymond turned away and pulled out a burner phone. “I have it,” he said. “We need to meet.” He listened for a minute before replying, “Alright.”

As he hung up, Liz pushed the Fulcrum back into her rabbit. “Who was that?” she asked. 

“Leonard Caul,” he answered. “Fitch put me in touch with him before he died. If anyone can unlock the Fulcrum’s secrets, he can. I drive back to DC to meet him tomorrow.”

Liz felt her whole body go cold. “DC?” she asked incredulously. “Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“Yes,” Raymond answered. “Which is why you’ll be staying here.”

“Out of the question!” Liz exclaimed as she stood. “I have no experience with this kind of thing. My best chance of staying alive is staying with you, so I’m coming to DC with you.”

Raymond nodded. “Alright, Lizzie,” he said.


	5. Leonard Caul

Liz felt just as restless as she had the night before. Everything was happening to her too fast. Her mind couldn’t process it. Yesterday she had been a simple prison psychologist. Today she was a fugitive, declared an enemy of the nation just because of her parents whom she couldn’t even remember. 

She had tried pressing Raymond for more details, but he held firm. In his mind the truth was so horrible that knowing was a curse. She didn’t point out that not knowing hadn’t stopped her from being cursed. Liz would just have to keep working him until he was ready to open up. 

For now, she distracted herself by sitting at the window and watching the Baltimore skyline. The city could go about their night, blissfully unaware of the two fugitives in their presence. Liz was an ordinary person just like them, so why did she now have to fight for her life? Fate was inherently unfair; a lesson she’d learned after working in prison. She just never thought fate would come after her like this. 

A soft grunt broke her out of her thoughts, and she turned to look behind her. Through the dim light, she could see Raymond collapsed on one of the beds and deep in a troubled sleep. Her face flushed as she remembered waking alone that morning on his mattress. She hadn’t said anything, and thankfully neither had he, leaving her to guess at what was going on in his head. 

Against her better judgement, she moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Observing criminals was what she did. She had been studying the criminal psyche for a long time now, but she had never seen a case quite like Raymond’s. Then again, she was usually only meeting with criminals in prison where her very life didn’t depend on them. It was her compassion though that made her so good at her job, and if one thing had become clear over the past two days it was that Raymond was a man in desperate need of compassion. 

“I’m a sin eater,” he had said. Liz had instantly pinned down his martyr complex. It wasn’t an uncommon criminal trait, but people didn’t form a martyr complex for no reason. She already knew something bad had happened to him. Now she was just trying to figure out the details. 

His face tightened, and his whole body shuddered. Like last night, Liz rested her hand gently against his warm arm and was surprised when he unconsciously leaned into her touch. He was obviously close to Dembe, but did he have any other friends? Any family? Did he choose to isolate himself for his own safety or for those around him? Clearly he had kept away from her to protect her from the cabal as long as possible, but did that extend to everyone else?

Liz sighed as she stared down at the mystery of a man. Things would be simpler if he would just talk to her, but she knew from work that it was never that easy. But in the end, when she got to the person under the pain it was always worth it. 

His lips twitched. “Anne,” he whimpered softly. Liz’s breath caught in her throat as the name echoed in her head. Anne. Who was Anne? Loss of a loved one had shaped many criminals Liz met before. With what she could tell Raymond was involved in, the idea pained her but didn’t surprise her. 

She barely noticed the droop of her eyelids as her mind turned to static. Somewhere in her brain she was aware of her head hitting the pillow, but she was simply too tired to process. 

XXX

Blood. His eyes shot open, but he could still smell the blood. It filled his nostrils, choking him. He gasped for air and turned himself onto his side, trying to hide from the memory he would never escape. 

Raymond wasn’t sure wether to feel relieved or disappointed that he was waking up alone. Seeing Liz resting next to him yesterday morning startled him, but it also awoke a longing in him that had long since been buried. 

A lifetime ago it had been Anne on the other side of the pillows. Anne was innocent, and she always would be. No matter what they did to him, they could never strip away his memories of his late wife and the light in her eyes. She never should have been exposed to such darkness, and Raymond would never forgive himself for having brought it into her life (as well as ultimately ending it). 

Absentmindedly, he reached out to touch the other side of the bed. It was still warm from someone else’s body heat. He froze. She had spent the night by his side once again. Why she would do that he had no idea. By all accounts she should be running from him. This wasn’t a world she should want to be a part of. 

He hadn’t payed any attention to the shower running, but once it was off the silence was unbearable. With nothing better to do, he turned the TV on and listened to the news. 

“Fugitives Raymond Reddington and Elizabeth Scott are still at large. Authorities assure-“

The TV clicked off. Silence was better than the reminder of what Lizzie was up against. 

Upon hearing the low creak of the bathroom door, Raymond turned. Lizzie was there, dressed for the day with her hair up in a towel. “Oh good, you’re up,” she observed. “You have a plan for today?”

Raymond nodded. “My associate Baz will pick us up. Unfortunately all of DC will be looking for us which is why we’ll be disguised.”

“Disguised as what?” Lizzie asked skeptically. 

That was the best part, Raymond thought with a smile. “Amish visitors.”

XXX

Liz’s heart hammered in her chest, but no one looking on could tell, and there were a lot if people looking on. Despite the disguise, she had never felt more exposed in her life. Her blonde hair was pulled back all the way and covered with a dark bonnet, except for a few strands which escaped the bun and hung in her face. The long, blue dress hid her figure, but it couldn’t hide her from the stares. Perhaps that was the point. Everyone was staring, but no one saw them. They were hiding in plain sight. 

Beside her walked Raymond. It was amazing how real the fake hair that hung from his face looked, but Liz assumed the Concierge of Crime could afford the best. No one else tried to look under the wide brim of his hat. Because people fear what they don’t understand, everyone gave them a wide berth. 

They had Baz drop them off a few miles back in order to keep the attention away from Caul. The idea was to let DC get used to their presence before slipping away to meet. There wasn’t a single part of the plan Liz liked, but she had to admit it was their best option. 

After what felt like hours of agony, the fugitives finally arrived in the quiet shadows of the city where Caul lived. As per Caul’s instructions, they stuck to the backroads, away from cameras until they arrived at his backdoor. Raymond rapped his knuckles twice against the wood, also per Caul’s instructions. The door opened, and there was Caul. The stranger rushed Liz and Raymond in before locking the door again behind them. 

“Are you insane?” Caul hissed. “Prancing around DC dressed like that?”

“Probably,” Raymond answered. “Lizzie, would you please?”

Liz reached into the pocket sewn on the inside of her dress and pulled out the Fulcrum. Every instinct screamed at her as she handed over her best chance of survival to the stranger. Caul accepted it with gentle hands. “All those years of looking for it, and you had it all this time,” he mussed, staring in wonder at the drive. “Come with me.”

Caul led them into a dining room where a case sat open on the table. As Liz got closer, she could see the dials and keys hidden inside. She turned to Raymond. His expression was masked as he watched Caul, but he caught her eye and gave her a reassuring nod. Liz turned back just as Caul was inserting the Fulcrum into its slot. The case came to life, dials spinning until a little light came on and projected the contents of the Fulcrum onto the wall. 

Her jaw dropped. All she could do was stare as documents and pictures flashed across the wall, painting a horror story of government corruption and total domination. Her knees grew weak, and she fell backwards into a dining chair. She had thought her situation was bad before, but now it looked even worse. 

Raymond was at her side within a few seconds. “Lizzie, are you alright?” he asked. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder while his face scrunched up in worry. 

She nodded stiffly. “It’s just so much worse than I imagined,” she explained. “How are we supposed to fight an organization that powerful?”

It looked as if Raymond was about to say something when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID, and handed it to Liz. “It’s Agent Navabi,” he informed her. “Would you mind answering this while I talk to our new friend?”

Liz nodded and accepted the phone. “Hello?” she answered. 

“Liz, I thought you would want to know that the FBI is looking for two Amish fugitives in DC,” Samar replied. “Stay safe out there.”

The phone beeped, indicating that Samar hung up. Liz closed the phone. Her insides felt knotted up. “Raymond,” she said softly, her voice not wanting to work. “We have a problem.”


	6. Like A Magnetic Field

Laying in the dark, Raymond could feel every bump in the road as well as the racing heartbeat of the woman pressed against him. Hell, he could hear Lizzie’s heart pounding in their cramped space, as well as her shaky breaths. “Raymond, I can’t do this,” she whispered urgently. The car hit a pothole, and she whimpered. 

Raymond ran his hand up and down her arm a few times. “Yes you can,” he insisted. “Caul will have us out of here in no time, I promise.”

“Not if we suffocate first!” Lizzie hissed. “How much oxygen is left inside this trunk?”

“Lizzie, listen to me. We’re not going to run out. Samar tipped us off before they could lock down the whole city. Caul is going to drive us out of here safely.”

A thrashing elbow caught him in the chest. Raymond reached out to grab Lizzie’s arm before she could hurt herself or make too much noise. She was trembling, panting, and he could feel her pulse skyrocketing. “Lizzie, you’re having another panic attack. You need to slow down.” His voice wasn’t enough. She needed a distraction. “You’re a psychologist, right Lizzie?”

“Yeah,” she gasped. “But I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Psychoanalyze me,” Raymond suggested. 

“Now?”

“I’m interested to hear the way you think,” he replied. In truth he was terrified to learn what she really thought of him, but he didn’t have a lot of options. 

Lizzie let out a shaky breath. “Alright. Well, you’ve been on your own for a very long time. Maybe you’ve grown close to one or two people since the tragedy that sent you on the run, but for the most part you’ve kept your distance, interacting with the world like a ghost.”

A cold pit settled into Raymond’s stomach as her analysis hit too close to home. How on Earth did she know about that? “Tragedy?” he questioned gently, trying to feel out how much she knew. 

“You don’t sleep well,” Lizzie answered softly. “You talk aloud sometimes, calling out for a woman.”

Anne, Raymond realized with dread. With Lizzie staying close in the night, his muscle memory had been searching for the woman he loved. 

Lizzie shifted uncomfortably beside him. “Did I overstep?” she asked. Raymond could feel her heartbeat starting to pick up again where her back was pressed against his chest. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to be sorry to me,” Raymond murmured. He placed his worn, calloused hand on her arm and began to stroke the soft skin there, hoping to provide comfort. She shuddered under his touch, and goosebumps prickled her skin. The car hit another bump, and Raymond instinctively reached around her waist to pull her closer. Softly, he began to hum, hoping to calm Lizzie back down. 

She stilled in his embrace. “That song,” she murmured. “Sam used to sing that song to me. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Raymond admitted. 

Before he could say more, the engine of the car shut off. A second later, the trunk door was opened, and blinding light rushed into the compartment. Lizzie was quick to pull herself away from his side, and Raymond found himself missing her warm presence. “Thank god!” Lizzie exclaimed, standing in the light. 

As Raymond began to pull himself out of the truck, Lizzie was by his side again, grabbing his arm to steady him as his feet hit solid ground. This time Raymond felt his own pulse rise as she smiled at him so warmly. 

“You should be safe here,” Caul announced, looking out towards the cabin in the woods. “As far as I know, the cabal doesn’t know about this place.”

“Where are we?” Lizzie questioned. 

“My late brother used to own this cabin,” Caul explained. “It’s been vacant since he died. No one will know to look here this far off the grid.”

“Leonard, I cannot thank you enough for this,” Raymond expressed. 

“Actually, you can,” he replied. “You take that son of a bitch director down for good.”

XXX

Night fell, and the world became silent. Raymond had gathered wood for the fire Liz now sat in front of, but other than that he had remained quiet. Liz didn’t bother him, figuring he needed the space to regroup as much as she did. She had been through quite the ordeal over the past few days, and it was starting to take its toll. Her stomach felt like a bowling ball had dropped into it, making it hard for her to eat the small handful of dried fruit she had grabbed from the cabinets. 

“You should eat. You’ll need your strength.”

Liz startled at the voice that came behind her. In her haze, she didn’t hear Raymond reenter the room. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologized as she turned to face him. 

“It’s alright,” Liz replied with a gentle smile. “Hey, have you heard anything about your friend? Um, Dembe?”

He shook his head. “Nothing yet. I have my friend at the DMV looking for him now as we speak.”

Liz patted the couch beside her as invitation, and Raymond sat next to her. “I didn’t realize you were claustrophobic,” he said, another apology in his voice. 

“You don’t have to apologize for getting me to safety,” Liz said, scanning his face. Only guilt hung behind his soft eyes. The words he had said earlier to her in the trunk echoed inside her head. 

You don’t ever have to be sorry to me. 

Who was she that he felt so strongly about her?

“Why did you come for me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I will always come for you, Elizabeth, whenever you are in need.”

“Why?” Liz repeated. “I’m no one. I’m just the orphaned daughter of a Russian spy.”

A small smile graced Raymond’s lips. “Oh, I think you’re very special.”

“You don’t know me,” Liz argued. She wasn’t angry, but something about his guilt complex was starting to unsettle her. “You knew my parents. You know where I came from. That’s it.”

“Lizzie-“

“Wait,” she cut him off. “You don’t want to talk about my parents. I get that. But I’m scared, and right now I don’t need a martyr, or- or a sin eater, or whatever you call yourself.” She paused a moment, catching her breath. “I need a friend.”

Raymond’s eyes were intense as he met hers. “Can you do that for me?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. His eyes brightened. “You’re right. I don’t know you. But I can tell that I’ve met an incredible, strong woman who can do anything she puts her mind to.”

Liz smiled, feeling warm inside. She crossed the space on the couch between them and slung her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she replied. He stiffened at first, but it only took him a second to lean back into her. His arms wrapped around her back, and he nuzzled her hair softly. For a lone wolf he was very affectionate physically, and it didn’t go unnoticed. It made Liz feel sad to think of how long he had been on his own, deprived of the affection he so obviously craved. 

She waited for him to pull away first, allowing him to take all the time he needed. Without him to hold her that morning, she was sure she would have fallen into a full blown panic attack. She needed him, whoever he was, but she could tell he needed her just as much. 

XXX

There was only one bed in the cabin, and Raymond, always the gentleman, insisted she take it while he slept on the couch. They didn’t have much by way of spare clothes, but Raymond was able to get Baz to deliver what little they did have. Liz stripped down to only a camisole that was slightly too big for her and a pair of boxer shorts. After being disguised as an Amish woman and stuck in a trunk, she felt like her skin needed to breathe as much as possible. Besides, she was passed feeling uncomfortable around Raymond. 

Although she felt tired, she couldn’t force herself to sleep. She stroked at the scar on her wrist absentmindedly. The fire it came from had been mostly suppressed in her mind, but now it hung over her again like an axe. There was the heat, the smoke too thick to breathe, and the screaming. When she closed her eyes, it all started again. 

Without thinking too hard about it, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the main room, where Raymond uneasily slumbered on the couch. His eyelids twitched with whatever unpleasant dream he was having that night. Liz didn’t know why she was drawn to him night after night. Her psychologist brain told her that it was the result of trauma, but she tried not to listen. 

She crossed the room, her bare feet only making small noises against the wooden floor. Raymond’s face continued to twitch, but he showed no sign that she was disturbing him. As quietly as possible, she crouched down next to the couch and sat. She leaned her head back against the couch until it gently touched his arm and sighed. 

It was going to be a long night. 

XXX

When Raymond awoke in the middle of the night, the first thing he noticed was the scent of blood fading from his nose as his nightmare left him. 

The second was the burning itch of the scars all along his back. 

The third was the gentle weight against his arm. 

He squinted into moonlit room. Lizzie was passed out on the floor, leaning up against the couch. Her lips were parted, and her skin looked pale against the dark. She looked delicate, like porcelain that would shatter upon touch, yet he knew that she was as tough as her mother. 

If only Katerina was still alive to see how beautiful Lizzie grew up to be. 

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. If he didn’t help her, Lizzie would be in pain in the morning. He quietly got up and took her into his arms, with one supporting her back and the other under her knees. Her head rested against his chest. As he walked back towards the bedroom, Lizzie twitched and groaned. 

“Raymond?”

“It’s alright, Lizzie,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Lizzie murmured. “Too much smoke.”

“There’s no more fire, Lizzie,” he assured her. It pained him to think that she dreamed of that night when she was so young. 

“And the screaming?”

“You’re safe. No one can hurt you now.”

She seemed to fall asleep again, so he gently set her down on the bed and pulled the blanket over her. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and turned to leave when a small voice stopped him. 

“Raymond?”

“Yes, Lizzie?”

She opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him. “I know you don’t want to talk about my parents, but there’s one thing I need to know.” She paused nervously. “Was the fire an accident?”

The truth was a burden, but so was the agony of not being able to remember if someone had tried to hurt her and her family. 

“No,” Raymond answered. 

Lizzie’s face fell, and Raymond wished he could take the pain away. “Will you stay with me?” she asked timidly. “I don’t want to keep seeing it.”

“Of course,” Raymond answered, crawling in next to her. The morning was going to be awkward, but tonight he would allow himself to comfort and be comforted.


End file.
